little red glasses
by ToxiNeena
Summary: He'd sooner die than let his cursed lineage tamper with his innocent daughter. /Inspired by Naruto Gaiden: theory on why Sasuke left/


**Ah, it's been so long since I've written something. Especially for the Naruto fandom. But, after reading the first release of Naruto Gaiden (and being struck upside the head with that SasuSaku angst) I developed some theories on why, exactly, Sasuke would leave his family behind. This is just one of those theories, I couldn't help but write it as the words just flowed.**

**Basically, a take on how/why Sarada needs and received her glasses and why Sasuke left. Hope this tithes ya'll over until next week!**

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_little red glasses_

_**"He'd sooner die than let his cursed lineage tamper with his innocent daughter."**_

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"There's something wrong with Sarada."

Sasuke heard his wife's voice from his place in the kitchen, a ladle in his hand as he stirred the broth on the stove. He abandoned the task of cooking and stalked into the living room where Sakura sat on the sofa, feet tucked underneath of herself and Sarada in her arms.

Sakura's frown marred her beautiful face as she stared worriedly down at the tiny baby in her arms.

He hesitated for the briefest moment—transfixed with the beautiful picture of his wife and child, simply sitting in the living room—before he joined his wife on the couch.

Even before Sarada's birth, a mere two months ago, Sakura had been worried about their daughter.

All new mothers experienced this, he was told. The worry and the anxiety were completely normal for mothers and she would probably continue to fret up until Sarada was an adolescent. But, it seemed that Sakura took this worry to a new extreme; she was constantly checking Sarada for every known disease or illness.

The checkups always revealed the same thing—their daughter was perfectly healthy. But, still, Sakura continued to assess.

Perhaps, Sasuke thought as he spared his wife a glance, this was due to the fact that she was a doctor. Perhaps it was the result of having created the Children's Clinic, of seeing such mentally and physically ill little ones each and every day. It was such a terribly sad thing to see ill children, and to deal with it daily had to take its toll somehow.

This then, Sasuke thought, was how it affected Sakura.

The worry for their daughter's health gnawed at her like sharp, pointy teeth.

Sasuke looked down at his daughter in Sakura's arms. Sarada was wide awake, familiar dark eyes open and blinking almost curiously. Her little rosebud mouth opened in a large yawn that made his heart clench in his chest.

"There's nothing wrong with our daughter," he said to Sakura, placing his hand on her shoulder. When she said nothing, he continued, "All of your tests show that she is healthy. Perhaps you're looking for things that just aren't there."

Pink hair flew as she turned a glare on him, green eyes ablaze. "I'm not imagining it, Sasuke-kun," she growled. Looking back down at Sarada, she said, "Look. Look at her eyes…"

He did so, glancing at their daughter. But he saw nothing wrong; just dark pools of black that stared up at the ceiling with interest. She even blinked twice, a flutter of ebony eyelashes as soft as the beating of butterfly wings.

"What am I looking for?" he asked his wife, because perhaps she was seeing something that he could not.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sakura bite down on her soft bottom lip. "She's not focused on me. I'm her mother, I'm holding her, my face is right above her, and she's looking at the ceiling instead of me," she whispered.

"Is that…not what most infants do?" Sasuke had to phrase his question very carefully.

To suggest that their daughter in any way was anything other than normal would probably infuriate Sakura. She was still quick to anger, even now that two months had passed since the birth; the hormones tended to stay a little while longer, Naruto told him.

"I mean, it's not _not_ normal. If that even makes any sense," she said, suddenly sounding much too tired. "Most babies can tell the difference between people and inanimate objects by around two months. People are more interesting to look at, babies like looking at people. Especially their parents. And yet…Sarada prefers to watch the ceiling."

Sasuke digested this information slowly. Certainly, their daughter was currently focused on the low-hanging ceiling above their heads. She didn't even glance at Sakura, whose face hovered just above hers.

"She still has time to develop," he reminded Sakura.

Sarada had only met her two-month mark a few days ago.

The pink-haired doctor sighed. "Yes, you're right. No child follows the milestone timeline exactly. She could just be a late-bloomer," she admitted, stroking a single finger over their baby's soft, pudgy cheek.

That seemed to catch Sarada's attention as she startled, dark eyes fluttering, mouth opening. The infantile look of shock made Sakura laugh quietly and murmur soothing words to the little girl in her arms.

When their daughter's gaze finally clung to Sakura's face, she sighed in relief and reached up to rub the bridge of her nose. It was an action Sasuke knew and recognized—she did that when she was particularly stressed.

"Do you think I'm being paranoid?" she asked then, turning weary green eyes on him.

The vulnerability there struck him, as it always did. He could see the naked worry and fear in her eyes, and the knowledge that he would be the only one to see her so open filled him with pride. She trusted him.

The fingers of his prosthetic hand found hers and wove them together tightly in a show of support. "No," he answered honestly. "I think you're worried. It would be unnatural if you weren't."

Sakura swallowed, a wobbly smile on her lips. "Thank you," she murmured and squeezed their hands.

He said nothing, merely stroked his thumb over her knuckles and stared at the beautiful proof of their love as she yawned again and jerked her little balled-up fists.

She was perfect, his daughter.

But still, even as her perfect eyes fluttered shut and Sakura sighed contentedly, a knot of worry wriggled its way into his own heart.

…

Sarada's first birthday had just passed when he noticed it. At first, he had thought that perhaps her eyes were just naturally shaped that way. But as she grew and continued to peer at things strangely, he knew that something was not…right.

She squinted, he realized. Quite heavily.

It was only a matter of time before Sakura noticed it, being both a doctor and a fretting mother. And his suspicions were proven correct as mere hours after his epiphany, Sakura noticed it as well. Her brows drew down and her eyes narrowed like a hawk's as she looked at their daughter, toddling around on chubby legs.

She couldn't walk for very long, but she could take a couple steps. And she'd proven very adept at furniture-cruising, much to Sasuke's inadvertent amusement. But right now, she took one step and fell onto her behind in the living room, legs splayed out and balled fists rubbing at her eyes.

When she let out a low-pitched whine, Sakura knelt on the floor and Sasuke watched from the sofa.

"Sarada? What is it, honey?" Sakura's voice was soothing but concerned.

Of course, their daughter couldn't very well answer. She could speak, but few of her words had meaning.

Chubby little hands kept rubbing and she whimpered. "Mama…"

Sakura swallowed, her face twisting; she hated seeing their baby in pain. So did Sasuke. As he sat there, his hands clenched on his knees and his heart squeezed in his chest. There was no worse thing in Sasuke's world than listening to his daughter cry.

Wanting nothing more than to destroy the source of her tears, Sasuke forced himself to sit still on the sofa and watch as Sakura swept Sarada into her arms. Their daughter tucked her head into Sakura's shoulder, hands fisting in her red dress, and Sakura placed her hand over Sarada's dark head.

Walking slowly, green eyes meeting his, Sakura made her way to the sofa. The hand cradling their daughter's head glowed a faint, soothing green that Sasuke recognized well.

She was probing Sarada's little body, looking for the source of the pain that she couldn't enunciate.

Mere seconds later, Sakura inhaled sharply and her hand fell away. Her back was suddenly stiff, her shoulders tense. "Baby," she whispered into Sarada's downy hair, "is it your eyes? Do your eyes hurt?"

A little sniffle met their ears. Followed by a soft but distinctive, "Ow…"

That was one of the words that _did_ have meaning.

Sasuke felt his heart stop in his chest, leaving the rest of his body numbingly cold. He looked to Sakura, saw her pale face and thinned lips as she met his stare, and knew that she suspected the same thing he did. Moments passed as the small family sat there, and Sasuke peered worriedly at the dark, squinting gaze that met his over his wife's shoulder.

Then, Sakura's hand returned to the back of Sarada's head, glowing again. She kept it there, humming a soft tune under her breath that she often sang to Sarada as a lullaby. Eventually, their daughter's dark eyes closed and her tears dried on her flushed cheeks.

Sasuke and Sakura said nothing as they both rose and brought Sarada to her bedroom. It was just across the hall from theirs, mere feet away, but he could see the strain in Sakura's body as she lay their baby in her crib.

Sakura was afraid to let go. He could understand—letting go of that little soft body was sometimes all but impossible.

He shut the bedroom door behind them with a soft 'click' and met his wife in the kitchen. She stood at the counter, two ceramic cups in front of her as well as a teapot. But she made no move to pour, just stood there as if lost in thought.

Sasuke sat in a chair, waiting for her.

"Her eyes were hurting because she was squinting so much…" Sakura whispered eventually, her hand lifting to the teapot. "She squints because she has trouble seeing."

"Yes." Sasuke nodded.

"She shouldn't have trouble seeing, Sasuke-kun. She's an Uchiha; she's supposed to have excellent vision." Her grip on the teapot was white-knuckled as she poured the fragrant tea into one of the cups. Though her back was to him, Sasuke knew she was clenching her teeth and frowning.

"Sometimes, the genes are too much for the body to handle," Sasuke said then, echoing things that Sakura already knew but didn't want to face. "Sometimes, full-blooded Uchiha suffer from loss of eyesight because of the constant strain of the sharingan gene. Like myself." He paused for a moment, watching Sakura's shoulders. "I had to take my older brother's eyes because I overused my own."

Itachi was still, and would always be, a tender subject. His brother had died, disgraced and hated by nearly everyone. Completely undeserving. And in his own pain and rage, Sasuke had stolen his brother's eyes.

It was rare for Sasuke to speak of his brother on his own accord.

"I know that…" Sakura said softly, the tone in her voice letting him know that she understood this was a touchy subject for him. "But, she can't even use the sharingan yet. She shouldn't be losing her eyesight at just over a year old."

He nodded, continued with a grimace. "That would be true of a full-blooded Uchiha," he said slowly, letting his wife piece the sad news together.

Sakura finished pouring tea into the second cup, set the teapot down with gentle care that he hadn't expected. When she turned to him, her face was calm but her hands shook as she brought the two cups to the table and sat in front of him.

Her voice cracked when she said, "But she's not a full-blooded Uchiha."

"No," Sasuke swallowed, his throat constricting, "she's not."

Sakura's face tightened and her hand clenched on her cup. "What does…what does that mean, Sasuke-kun?"

It meant what he'd feared since that day nearly a year ago on the sofa, when Sakura had suspected there might be something wrong with their daughter. In a way, he thought bitterly, she had been right. His blood was what was wrong.

Sasuke looked into his tea. "The genes can be too strong for even some full-blooded Uchiha. For someone with only half the blood of the Uchiha in her veins…it can be overwhelming."

"Only half," Sakura murmured, her pink eyebrows furrowing. Then, pain filled her features as she looked right at him with glassy eyes. "My blood diluted the Uchiha blood. It made her weaker to the sharingan gene, ruined her eyesight._ I_ did this to her…"

"No," Sasuke said sharply, throwing his hand across the table to catch hers. "No, you did nothing wrong. No one did anything wrong."

"Sasuke-kun, our baby is going to go _blind_ because of me." Sakura's voice was hard, filled with pain, and her mouth wobbled as she tried so valiantly to fight the tears that gathered in her eyes. She began to pull her hand away.

"Sakura." He gripped her tighter—she had to understand, this wasn't her fault. "I am the only pure-bred Uchiha left. No matter what I did, who I decided to have children with, those children would have probably met the same fate." The words were harsh, but necessary, and she frowned at him. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine," he said seriously. "I am the one with cursed blood."

Nothing ever good came of the Uchiha blood. Except for his daughter, and even she was about to be dragged under by its vicious lust for mayhem and tragedy.

Sasuke wouldn't let that happen. He'd sooner die than let his cursed lineage tamper with his innocent daughter.

"In a way," he began, "this can be looked at as a disease." A disease on the genetic level, but a disease nonetheless. "Diseases have treatments and cures."

Sakura whipped her head up from where she'd been staring at their intertwined hands. The expression on her face was incredulous as her tears dried before they fell. "What?" she gasped. "Sasuke-kun, even if this was like a disease, it's a part of her on the genetic level. Even I can't change that with my medical jutsu. You can't cure genetics," his wife said bitterly.

He understood that better than anyone.

"No," he agreed. "But I came across many different lands during my travels. Their ways of medicine were…different than ours. My brother used an unknown medication to alleviate the burden on his eyes; maybe I can find something similar somewhere out there."

Sakura paused, her lips pursing. As a doctor, she had to be a skeptical person by nature and it showed clearly on her face as she stared at him.

But, eventually, she sighed and closed her eyes. "Even if you did go searching, we wouldn't be able to do anything in time. At the rate things are going, she'll be fully blind before her next birthday." Her breath caught on her final words, and she stumbled.

Sasuke stroked his thumb across Sakura's knuckles, their hands still held tightly together. They were gripping each other like a lifeline.

"Glasses," he said. "Make her wear glasses to ease the strain on her eyes. You can use medical jutsu to help, too. It won't reverse the blindness," he acknowledged with a solemn nod, "but it will keep it at bay until I find a cure or a treatment of some kind."

"Are you seriously considering this?" Sakura asked incredulously. "Because even if our baby does go blind, I won't love her any less."

"Neither will I," Sasuke assured her with an attempt at something like a small smile. Then his face hardened. "But I'll be damned before I stand by and let the curse of the Uchiha rob our daughter of something she deserves to have."

Sakura fell silent as she looked back down into her now cold tea. Her slim finger traced the rim of it over and over again as she considered his thoughts. He could see the wheels turning in her mind as she contemplated all that his departure would entail for their family.

"I don't know if I…if I can do this by myself," his wife murmured eventually. She looked up at him. "I didn't sign up to be a single mother, Sasuke-kun."

The words stung him. He very nearly lifted his other hand to rub at his chest.

"I know. If all goes well, I will be gone for a short time."

Her green eyes flashed. "And if it doesn't?"

"Then I will keep looking until I have exhausted every possible lead and information trail," he said firmly. He'd never been one to do things half-assed. If he was going searching, he'd search under every damn pebble and root he came across until there were simply none left.

Sakura swallowed, her throat working. "You could be gone for years," she said softly.

He didn't contradict her. Because he could very well be gone for years.

"This isn't goodbye," he murmured, rising from his chair. "It's just…until we meet again."

Sakura jumped up and he gathered her in his arms, letting her bury her face into his chest. Her arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed firmly but gently; he knew that with just a twitch on her part, she could snap his spine in half with her brute strength if she wanted. Instead, she clung to him desperately, breathing so slowly as if memorizing the way he smelled and felt.

But he couldn't fault her. He was doing the same thing.

His nose in her pink hair, he inhaled deeply, smelled the floral scent of her shampoo and soap. His hands felt her soft and strong body as she leaned into him.

He would never forget the way she felt and smelled today as long as he lived.

"Write to me?" It was muffled by his shirt.

"Even if you tell me not to," he answered. In the next moment, he breathed, "I love you. Both of you. More than anything," as if he was trying to make some sort of excuse.

Sakura's little laugh melted his heart. "I know. We love you, too."

Within the next few days, Sasuke visited Kakashi, the current Hokage. He explained the situation, and maybe it was because he had been Kakashi's student once—maybe the geezer still had a soft spot for him somewhere—but his request to travel was granted.

"_It's no secret you're one of the most talented shinobi the village has in its ranks. Even so, if I told you no, you'd just head on out anyway. I know you, Sasuke. So go ahead. I'll look after Sakura and Sarada-chan."_

Sasuke had never felt more indebted to his old teacher than he had at that moment. Afterwards, he went back home to pack his belongings. He didn't need much, and whatever he left behind, Sakura would take care of. He wasn't very attached to material items.

He lingered for one more day after packing, procrastinating for as long as his mind allowed. Leaving his wife and daughter was like tearing out a chunk of his heart and stepping on it, but it needed to be done.

For Sarada.

Because she deserved a chance at a normal life.

On his final day, he kissed Sakura farewell. Sarada was sleeping in her crib, and so he kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair as she slept, whispering, "Papa will fix this. Papa will make everything okay."

Shutting her bedroom door cut out another chunk of his heart. And on the way out, as Sakura hugged him one last time and kissed his cheeks with unshed tears in her eyes, he slipped something into her hands: a pair of little red glasses.

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Like I said, it's just one of my many theories and I couldn't resist. Let me know what you liked/didn't like!

_also if this turns out to be true, pls shoot me bc wow angst galore._


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